


Harder

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's beauty, she's grace, she'll punch you in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harder

“Harder.”

She slams her palm into the dummy, wincing even before it connects. Wrong, again. The Courier circles back to her starting spot, following the same path of footprints she’s packed into the dust.

“You’re leading with the wrong foot. Harder.”

Again; she knows her arm extends too late, and her palm slips off the dummy’s forehead.

“Harder!”

Six steps with the right foot- the correct one, this time- and swings her leg up. The dummy’s head snaps off, and hangs by the canvas limply.

“Not the move I was teaching, but a fair kill all the same.”

Erin chuckles, and pushes her hair back. “Sorry. Lost my head. As did the dummy.”

Lucius doesn’t smile, though he is amused. “Harder this time.”

“Right.” she says, and stomps, and strikes.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

“Fuck!”

“I may have overestimated your skill.”

“I’m fucking telling you,” she insists, failing again, “I’m about as skilled in unarmed as they come.”

“Then prove it!” Lucius challenges, and she doesn’t register his ballistic fist has come off until the fist minus ballistics is coming towards her. She blocks- her only option when she was in position for another attempted Legion Assault- and sidesteps a left hook. She plays defensive, evading every attack effortlessly and memorizing the Praetorian’s form for adaption into her own. He favours the right- more than most righties, even- and though his speed is good, the power behind the punches is what really drives them home. When he takes the two steps she’s trying to master, she stands her ground, and takes the hit.

“You fight like a woman.” Lucius jabs.

Six stumbles back, dazed from the smack- or so it seems, until she drops into a leg sweep. Lucius falls back on an elbow. Erin gives him time to stand to make up for hitting him off-guard, but only waits until his legs are under him before her fist connects with his chest.

Lucius makes no effort to guard; every hit she makes he takes the full force of. Impressively, it doesn’t stop him from immediately aiming one of his own- which Erin dodges, or deflects. He opens in a wind-up, and Erin gives him a left-handed uppercut and a foot to the abdomen. Lucius reels back, takes a couple more steps of his own will, and adjusts his centre of gravity like he’s going to run her over, throw that superior body weight into it. Erin uses that against him; dashes across the open space, jumps, and rams her palm into his forehead. The Praetorian’s own weight works against him, as he topples backwards, and falls into the dirt. The Courier steps forward as he comes back into reality.

“I take it back,” says Lucius as he sits up on his elbows, “you fight like a cazador.”

She smiles. “So, was that satisfactory?”

“It was. You need a longer range than most of my men, but it will be a devastating opening move. You have the speed to make the first.”

“Thank you.” Six accepts, and holds out a hand. Handshake, help up, truce.

Lucius takes it, and pulls her to the ground, rolling on top of her. Erin squirms, but his knees are on either side of her thighs, and hands on her shoulders, and since he’s not only stronger, but weighs more, she puts all the force she can in a punch that short, approximating where her foot already hit him. He barely flinches. “What’s the matter, Lucius? Sore loser?”

She hits him again. “I need to make it very clear, if this were true combat, I would have bested you. You lack strength, discipline, and ruthlessness.”

“And testicles?” she mocks. Hits him again. He winces a little in the eyes, but his grip doesn’t let up.

“Don’t get cocky. I’m warning you.”

It sounds more like a warning than a threat. She loosens her fist. “Lucius, when’s the last time your place in the Praetorian was challenged?”

He shakes his head, and looks off. “Years.”

In a blink, she pulls his head down and kisses him, devouring and breathtaking. In a heartbeat more, she knees him in the testicles, and slides out from under him. He curls in on himself while Erin circles the dummy. “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Every man in the Legion respects you.” Lucius opens his eyes just in time to see her fitting his ballistic fist. She winks at him before punching the dummy. Stuffing flies out the back, along with shotshell. “ _Wow_ , that’s fun. Now I know why you use right straights so much.”

Lucius sits up, and stands up, slowly, looking down. “I lost to a woman. It’s a disgrace.”

She glares, and clenches the ballistic fist. She smiles sadly, gently, and puts the hand on her hip. “You lost because I’m a woman. I fight like a woman.” Six strides towards him, legs crossing with each stride. It’s impractical. It’s beautiful.

She touches his cheek with the gloved hand. “Speed, not strength. Agility, not aggression.” She curls her fingers in, and presses the pressure plate to his cheek. Lucius stays very still, and closes his eyes. His hands stay behind his back. “...Beauty, not brawn.”

Her hand unfurls, and fingertips drag up his cheekbone. She kisses him. Lucius opens his eyes. “...I’ve never met a woman like you before.”

“Almost like all women are different. Weird.”

He exhales for a long moment, blinking slowly, turning his face to press against her hand. Then he thinks better, and swallows. “I would like my glove back.”

Erin frowns, and pulls away to look at it. “I don’t know. I could have a blast with this thing.” Her lips pull up easily, and she pulls one arm from behind his back, and holds the palm up. Her left hand matches it, fingers threading between his and pulling away in one motion. He finds his reaching out after words, and a ballistic fist slides over. “I’ll have to buy one from the Gun Runners.”

“You would be a terror with one.” he says, flexing his hand in the glove. “I would also like to kiss you again.”

The Courier looks off, wetting her lips, then dips her head as she looks back to him. “I think I’d like to do more than kiss.”

Lucius’s eyebrows twitch up slightly, then return. He cocks his head to the west. She follows.

In his tent that night, between his name and her moans, she chants, “ _Harder, harder, harder..._ ”


End file.
